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Subject: Road Tripping with Dad, Part 1 “Are you sure you don’t want to listen to anything else?” my dad asked from the passenger seat. I had my head out the window, absolutely dying in the heat. It was the middle of July, and the old truck we were in didn’t have air conditioning. About 2 minutes into our drive, I’d had to roll down the old, rusty handle to get some fresh air. “What did you say?” I asked, bringing my head back into the car. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back, rolling down my tank top and into the top of my shorts. I was just wearing loose mesh gym shorts and a jock strap underneath (it was the only clean thing in my drawer when I woke up that morning). My dad had picked me up from my mom’s house at the crack of dawn. I was living with her while looking for a job — I had graduated college the year before. They’ve been divorced most of my life, and they’re cordial enough. We were driving from Pennsylvania all the way down to Georgia, where my dad’s boat was anchored. He had left it there earlier that year when he came up to PA for the summer, and now, he’d decided he wanted to stick around up north for a bit longer. So someone had to drive down, get his boat out of the water and prepare it for winter. As his only child, it just so happened that someone was me. We were about 7 hours into our first leg of the trip, where we’d stop in Virginia at a camp site. My dad was way too cheap for hotels. “I said do you want to listen to something else?” When I got my head into the car, I could hear he was playing some country star. Toby Rock or something. They all sound the same to me. “No, this is fine,” I said. “I couldn’t really hear it anyway.” “Okay,” my dad said, and then it was silent again. It wasn’t awkward anymore when my dad got silent like this. It’s just how he is. Ever since I started getting older, we didn’t have much to talk about, anyway. Growing up, he had girlfriends. He was on the high school football team. He was tuzla escort one of 6 boys. And even though my dad had tried his hardest to make me an athlete when I was younger, it turned out I was more into theater. But we have become comfortable in this silence. I put my head back out the window. I looked over as a car began to pass us on the right. The driver was a balding guy, wearing sunglasses, but pretty handsome, with a strong jawline and some nice scruff. What immediately caught my eye was that he was shirtless. It was a hot day, so I guess it made sense. But something in my jock twitched, and I could feel a rush of blood as my dick brushed the fabric. It immediately brought me back to the first time I’d ever put a jockstrap on. I was younger, still at the point where I was trying to please my dad by playing sports. This time it was baseball. It was the first sport I’d play where I required a little extra support between my legs. My dad had gone to the store earlier to buy a jockstrap. Once he got home, he brought me into the living room. “You’ll need one of these before the season starts,” he said, tearing open the packaging to a standard white jockstrap with a red stripe along the waistband. I’d never seen one before. “What’s it for?” I asked. “For your dick and balls,” he said, smirking. “Drop your pants.” I froze. “Just my pants?” I asked. “No, underwear too,” he said, preoccupied with untangling the straps. A surge of fear ran through me. I could not be naked in front of my dad. I knew I’d get a boner. I’d started to realize I was gay just that year. It was hard to be in a locker room with a bunch of hot, dangling dicks and not come to terms with the fact that you want to know what they taste like. It wasn’t a huge deal for me — I knew a couple guys on the team who were gay too, and pretty open about it. They didn’t get too much shit — not any more than the other guys did, I guess. I knew my mom would be cool with it. She had plenty tuzla escort bayan of gay friends. My dad was kind of the wild card; I had no idea how he’d react if I told him. But back in the living room, my dad had no idea. I sighed and did the only thing I could do. I started unbuckling my pants. As my dad held out the jock, I pulled my underwear to my knees. My semi hard dick flopped out in front of my dad, my nicely trimmed pubes on full display. My pulse sped up as I stood naked, presenting my dick to my dad. “How do I put it on?” I asked, eager to cover my growing dick. “Here, step in,” he said, holding it out. I stepped forward and into the straps. Dad began pulling the jock up my thighs, then to my waist. His face was inches from my dick. I couldn’t help it. It was growing. By the time he got it all the way on, my boner was almost at full mast. It was almost 7 inches, and pointing down, so it was impossible not to notice. My dad’s face was inches away. He took his hands from the waistband to the pouch. He inserted his fingers and grasped the sides, brushing my balls. My dick jerked. He didn’t seem to notice as he began adjusting the pouch around my hard dick. My heart was pounding so loud in my chest I started to feel lightheaded. Then, all of a sudden, I felt his hand grasp my hard dick. I gasped for a second, then realized he was adjusting it in the pouch. Silently, he gripped it with his fingers — it was hard as a rock at this point — and flipped it up into the waistband. “There you go,” he said, “little more room that way.” I couldn’t believe my dad had just touched my dick. And it was barely a big deal. “We both got one, right?” he said, and chucked a bit as he stood back. That made my dick throb. The way it was rubbing against the waistband felt absolutely wild – I could feel every inch of the skin on my dick, stretched so thin as my boner throbbed. My dad surveyed the scene, his son naked except for a jockstrap, the tip of escort tuzla his rock hard dick sticking out the top. “Fits you pretty nicely, I think,” he said. Then, he bent over to pick up the packaging, and strode out of the room. I heard him drop the packaging in the trash, then head up the stairs. I immediately collapsed onto the couch and freed my dick from the pouch. Without even bothering to take it off, I furiously jerked my dick, so turned on by what had just happened. The couch was creaking, and my grunts started getting louder and louder — I barely noticed as I pumped my rock hard dick, sitting spread legged on the couch in the living room. Finally my cum burst from the tip of my dick – the first spurt landed on my chest, the second on the couch. I kept going until my balls were totally empty, and my body was glistening with my cum. Ropes of it stretched down my leg. I had never been so turned on in my life. “I’m turned on,” my dad said, back in the truck. “You’re what?” I jerked my head into the truck again, startled out of my memory. “I said I turned on the wrong road,” he said. “Damn it.” I saw we had come to the campground. Damn, time really flies when you’re remembering one of the hottest sexual experiences of your life. I looked down – my rock hard dick had come out the side of the pouch and was tenting my mesh shorts. It was on full display. I quickly shuffled in my seat and tried to wrestle it into my waistband, hoping my dad hadn’t noticed. Finally he found the campsite we’d been assigned, a simple plot of dirt in the middle of a forest. The next site was about a half mile away through some dense trees. We pulled the truck into the site and my dad put it in park. He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. I stayed put because my boner was still throbbing – I wanted it to go down a bit before I stood up. My dad turned back toward me, his hand on the driver side door. For a second, before he shut it, I caught a glimpse of him – his chest glistening from sweat just above the collar of his tank top, hanging over some gym shorts. And for a second, I thought I saw a bulge in his waistband. Then he shut the door and started toward the trunk.